Traveling Dina - Explore. Dream. Discover.

K2, *yo, K3 [yo, sk2p, yo, k2] 3x, k1, yo,* k1, rep b/w *’s, k2 (47 sts)

I love going through and deciphering a knit or crochet pattern. I’ve been crocheting so long now — I learned as a child, but picked it up again as a sophomore in college — that crochet patterns quickly become ingrained in my memory as I work on the projcet. After the first few repeats of an afghan pattern, I no longer need to refer to the paper; my fingers make the fabric as if second nature — I can see which type of stitch is called for at each point.

But knitting, knitting is a new craft for me. The slippery, corded needles still feel slick and foreign to the touch; I need to refer to the stitch guides to remind me of the meanings of certain knitting abbreviations and to figure out new techniques.

I’m attempting to make this shawl by May, in time for Lee’s wedding. It’s by far the most challenging project I’ve ever attempted, and I’m really enjoying it so far. I bought a luxurious (die-hard yarnaholics would call it “yummy”) wool and silk blend yarn that just begs you to rub it on your cheek, which makes the knitting even more pleasurable.

Normally while knitting or crocheting I watch TV or chat with friends, but this project is taking my full attention. I’ve already had to rip out 15 rows and start from the beginning again, but it looks even better the 2nd time around. I’m enjoying being mindful with the knitting, concentrating on the pattern and making sure each stitch is as perfect as it can be. Sitting in the cafe with my latte and my yarn, the time flew by, as I mindfully followed the pattern and watched the lace grow bit by bit.

Not much to show so far. Wish me luck in completing it!

So I finally bit the bullet and bought a new GPS Satellite Navigation System, the Garmin Nuvi 360. My brother has a similar GPS system, and after seeing how his works, I knew I had to have one. Mom & Dad generously offered to get one for me for Christmas, so long as I did the legwork of picking one out. It took a while, but I finally decided, and boy am I glad! I don’t know how I lived without this thing previously!

Now, I am not much of an electronic gadget person, but if you haven’t seen or don’t know what a GPS Nav System is, well, you’re missing out! Basically, you attach the “unit” to a windshield or dashboard mount, turn it on, open the antenna, type in where you want to go, and, voila! Up pops a little map of where you are, and Daniel starts to tell you in a delightful British accent, “Turn right on Sixteenth, then turn right… Turn right on Castro. Continue for .6 miles, then turn right on Divisidero.”

Daniel has some trouble with street names like “Divisidero” and “Dolores” (all those darn vowels!) but basically, it’s perfect. No more pulling over to ask random people in gas stations how to find High Street; no more careening down the highway while trying to steal glances at a wadded up paper map (do people really do that?), no more writing out directions in LARGE BLOCK LETTERS so you can see exactly what to do next. No, Daniel has all that covered for you, from now on!

My Nuvi even has a “pedestrian” mode, and since it’s small and portable (fits in my purse! the size of 1 serving of chicken breast!) I can take it around the city. I haven’t been this excited over a gadget since… well, OK, my cell phone, but it’s been a booming year.

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GPS Romance

For the holidays, mom gave Lisa, Mrs. F and me all framed copies of a picture of Lisa and me when we were probably in about 5th or 6th grade. (Notice who’s taller now! Haha!) Lisa and I have been friends since we were in 1st grade, and I hope we are friends for the rest of our lives!

Old friends, old friends,
Sat on their parkbench like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
of the high shoes of the old friends

Old friends, winter companions, the old men
Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today,
Sharing a parkbench quietly
How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years,
Silently sharing the same fears

Time it was and what a time it was it was,
A time of innocence, a time of confidences.

Long ago it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they’re all that’s left you.

I’m sure I’m completely wrong in my analogy, but it feels like the way NYC has the “outer boroughs” meaning the far-reaches of Queens and the Bronx and Staten Island, and the “‘burbs” like NJ, Long Island, and Connecticut, San Francisco has the various parts of the “Bay Area” and additional counties. The South Bay is San Jose, San Matteo and other towns; in the East Bay there is Oakland and Berkeley; and you can always venture far to Marin, Sonoma, or Monterrey Counties if you’re up for an adventure.

This weekend, J. and I took my extrememely dirty Honda (for the life of me I cannot find a car wash!) to the East Bay — Berkeley, to be specific — for a 1980’s theme party. Those who know me well know I absolutely cannot turn down an 80’s party. I even have several pieces of authentic 1980’s clothing which have survived these *ahem* years and are still hanging in my closet today. However, the majority of them were deemed not “80’s” enough, and so before heading out, J. and I hit some of the Mission District thrift stores.

J. found a perfectly cheesy 80’s prom dress, and after some dress-up in my room, we decided that yes, I could wear my original prom dress that I wore with Adam in 19*cough**cough*. I decorated it with some buttons of bands who are my favorite to this day — The Smiths, The Cure, Depeche Mode, New Order — and teased up my hair (not nearly as high as I used to get it in 19*grumble**grumble* - how in the world did I acheive such heights??? I vaguely remember something about AquaNet and a hair dryer…), gothed up my makeup and put on very large, very lopsided earrings.

And while I still find it impressive that I can actually fit into my prom dress from, well, a long time ago, I was a little less successful in trying to act like the 80’s were a foreign decade. I look young, but the “Ohhhh, in my day…” stories are NOT going to keep the facade going. Basically, I love the 80’s so much, I think I blew my cover. It’s pretty obvious now that I’m not 26 like everybody else… At least I didn’t sing all the words to “West End Girls”, karaoke style. (Someday, someday!)
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J.’s friend doing a very impressive Michael Jackson (from “Beat It”) impression:

J. and me in our tricked-out prom dresses. Notice the hand-knit legwarmers! (I knew those would come in handy someday!!!)

Today was like a spring day, only it’s January. Jeans, t-shirt, and a light cardigan for when we found ourselves in the shade. Lots of walking and sunshine. Emily came over, and we walked around the park, stopping for a little while to sit down, soak up some rays and gossip. We ambled over to a neat ‘zine-store where she picked up an “anarchist planner” (don’t ask) and stopped into ImagiKnit for some yarn porn (we both managed to refrain from buying any yarn as we both have stashes that could provide sweaters for all the children of a small island nation. If they, you know, needed sweaters.) We did some shopping at the natural foods co-op (you can’t get much more California than soy yogurt), and after she left I took myself and the New York Times magazine section out to We Be Sushi. All-in-all, a very chill, relaxing, lazy Sunday.

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The “park” is Dolores Park (which has it’s own Wikipedia entry, click on the link), a mere 2 blocks away from my house. It’s a favorite of dog-owners, and there are dogs of all shapes and sizes chasing tennis balls (and each other) pretty much everywhere. There’s lots of grassy areas for picknicking, tennis courts on the side, a ball field, and even (really gross) bathrooms. On the weekends, more often than not there is some sort of music, and today there was a small marching-style band playing drums and horns for a crowd of people dressed up in burning man-esque style “formal” wear — crazy top-hats and corduroy tails, flouncy prom dresses of all styles. It was great fun to watch; wish we’d been invited!

The view from Dolores Park:

Dina and Emily in Dolores Park:

In October, I went to Las Vegas with a friend and met up with my former housemate from Ithaca, who is now a teacher in New Mexico. A. prides herself on being trendy and fashionable, following all the high-quality brand names and researching them online because there’s not much else to do in Gallup.

As J., A. and I started to get dolled up for our first night on the town, A. very gently made it clear: my inexpensive, chain-store, belted and slightly baggy jeans were not doing justice to my slender figure. And on top of all that, they were low-brow. We had a mission: Operation Cute Jeans.

Two department stores, several hours, and what felt like hundreds of pairs of jeans later, I left Las Vegas with an important, life-changing piece of paper: a list of brand-names, cuts, styles, washes (the ‘color’) and sizes of premium denim, plus the URL’s to two denim forums where women sell thier “gently used” $250 jeans for sometimes less than half the original price.

After our excursion, my head was swimming with information; I could barely keep it all straight. I marvel at A.’s amazing capacity for storage and retrieval of the obscure details of denim, including how different cuts actually fit. After I lost my valuable slip of paper, she was still able to rattle off the exact pairs I’d liked best, in what sounds like a bizarre code: COH Ingrid Pacifics, 25. 7FAM Sigs 25. R&R Costello Ephedrine in 24. I stored the info away in my e-mail box and began looking online to start my collection.

Three months after our Vegas department store excursions, A. still has a photographic memory and a wardrobe to die for, while I’ve gained the valuable skill of being able to recognize the back pocket insignias of several of the most important brands of premium denim: Citizens of Humanity (COH)! Seven for All Mankind (7FAM)! True Religion (TR)! Rock & Republic (R&R)! Joe’s Jeans (Joe’s)!

And recently, within just a matter of days, I had the opportunity to stare at the rear ends of the citizens of two of our country’s best and most glamourous cities and ask myself a question: Which city is trendier? San Francisco, or New York?

AND the result? I hate to disappoint my bretheren in the Greatest City in the World, the Big Apple, the Pulse of the Empire State, the (supposedly) always fashionable NYC, but… San Francisco is, at least when it comes to their tushies, trendier than New York. The heels, the slim-fit jeans, the cinched and flared coats… We could argue it’s the climate, but with global warming, temperatures have flip-flopped and New Yorkers are bar-be-queing while Californians are hitting the slopes.

Whatever the reason, my informal observations are thus: San Franciscans wear a LOT more premium denim than New Yorkers. And when New Yorkers wear it, they stick to “Sevens” (7FAM), one of the most premium but most well-known brands, while San Franciscans wear it all. And while I have now joined the ranks of those trendy San Franciscans, I also have the premium denim curse: doomed to check out the bouncing butts of strangers everywhere, every time I walk down the street.

The weather in NJ has been unbelievably mild. No snow in all of December! Seventy degrees in January! It’s crazy. I spent some time just wandering around our beautiful backyard, listening to the wind and writing in my journal.

“It is unseasonably warm in New Jersey, but the term doesn’t quite fit, as this weather feels peculiar for any season. The air temperature seems to be a perfect match for the comfort of the human body, the sun, already low in the sky, a warm caress. The sky is a pure winter blue with a few happy spring clouds like puffed cotton. But the breeze is chilly, soft and frequent. I guess it feels somewhat like early autumn, but it’s January 6th. It is colder in San Francisco than in New York City. What have we done to the Earth?”

The animals are enjoying the warm winter, as well, as proven by a small family of deer grazing on the bushes around our property. “Hey Dad, check out the deer,” I called. We stood on the stairway landing and looked out into the clear, warm day. “Those sons of bitches are eating my shrubs!” muttered my dad, who so loves his garden. In his honor, here’s a picture of the most fearless of the herd.

I’m trying to figure out picture sizing, so while I do that, please sit back and enjoy this image….
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My friend is very sick, spend a moment to send good vibes her way.

Well, 2007 is starting off quietly. I have simple goals this year.

-More “House”, less “Law & Order”
-More Sushi, fewer frozen dinners
-More cute jeans and heels, fewer baggy jeans and flats
-More cameraphone pictures! Less letting pics sit around never getting posted or printed
-More weekend road trips and traveling, less doing routine things on the weekends
Relatively simple and easy goals (I hope!)

For New Year’s Eve, I went out for a fabulous if overpriced meal with my old friend Adam, where we split the portabello mushroom appetizer (kinda deep-fried on top, with a hint of cheese, very delicious) and the penne with sausage appetizer. My mushroom ravioli in a cream sauce was to die for, and Adam had a veal chop. We split a bottle of Chablis thanks to my dad, and it was quite nice.

Then, off to Stockholm, NJ (seemingly in the middle of nowhere) for a houseparty. Adam’s Magellan satellite navigation system came in handy, since we’d still be driving around back roads off Rt. 23 if we hadn’t had it. I can’t wait to get mine soon!

The party was nice, if mellow. There was a fire going out back, and eventually, around New Years, there were some fireworks, firespinners, and an awesome television-on-a-ladder that they set on fire. It seemed like a great idea until the acrid black smoke started rising up from the smoldering TV, but… well, setting a TV on fire is always fun, no matter what, it seems!

Now I’m back to work. *Yawn*

(Adam and me at NYE)